You randomly decide to catch up with a friend at a bookstore which has a cafe that is known for chai. Well, no suspense there it is called Cha Bar and the bookstore goes by the name ‘Oxford Bookstore’. This is in Connaught Place of New Delhi, India.

So, I was in the metro today with a book that I bought from the above-talked bookstore. Yes, you go to a bookstore and you have to have to buy a book. The reason I bought this was because I remember reading ‘Cat Among The Pigeons by Agatha Christie’ back in 2007 when I was in a school.

The weather was perfect, the temperature showing 16 °C, the metro coming out of the tunnel and sun shining on your back and an empty metro which means you get to sit and read in silence. That is when I clicked this photograph.

Tell me what you guys are reading these days? And how’s the weather at your end?

Like this:

What happens to the discarded flowers? They will never go into that bouquet that the bride receives or to that patient who is going to get discharged soon from the hospital. I saw a bunch of them lying on the ground behind the counter. Some of them were crumpled and some were broken. That made me want to compare it to humans but I just didn’t wanna do it. Because it serves no purpose and nothing ever changes.

Some are broken, some are thrown away while some get to be where they want to be. Then again they were flowers but we aren’t. We aren’t fragile as them but maybe a little sensitive and I guess that’s it.

​It was late at night and the room was too humid, I thought it would be better to go out on the small balcony for a while. I went out and saw pigeons resting on the cables that went through one side to the another and then naturally I saw up and then towards the street.

There was a car parked on the turn, it was a taxi must have been Ola or Uber because they are very famous now.
There was a man loading his suitcases onto the back seat of the car while two females, a small kid and a man waited for him. He turns around after placing the suitcases and shakes hands with the man and hugs him, then turns towards the little girl and talks to her, she I think was his little sister. Then he turns towards the lady and shakes her hand and hugs the one who is older, my guess was that he hugged his mother. This all happened within five minutes and then another car came to the corner, thankfully the driver of the new car wasn’t in a hurry and waited for them. He said the final goodbye, opened the front door of the car and went away.

The family stood there for a while, staring at the car before finally turning and walking away, I watched them go and I watched them saying bye.

Then what happened? I turned around and walked back into my humid room.

These are the stories I write for myself, they come from the things I observe. Let me know what are your views on them. I’d be happy to have a conversation on the similar lines. Thanks for reading 🙂

This morning he was sitting in his jeep outside the government hospital. He had parked under a tree beside the gate, a few steps away from the bus stop where in every 5 minutes a bus came and a hoard deboarded the bus. A few went into the hospital while others rushed towards the metro station, he saw all those people but did not focus on anyone particular. He was just seeing a group of people moving from one place to another, in the distance, an auto waited for the customers in front of the gate. He thought how he is to stand right there, wondering what would happen if an ambulance was to come, or someone who had a heart attack was rushed in through the gate. He sure was unaware that he could be the reason of someone’s death and the worst part was he might not realize that and would do the same thing again.

He knew that he was losing his focus and was instead looking at people, complete strangers, auto-wallahs who came and stopped and looked for customers followed by a bus. He looked in the rearview mirror of his jeep and saw his sweaty and a tired face, then he looked at his uniform which he didn’t get time to change for three days because this investigation was sure a different and a difficult one. He looked around, checked his dying phone and decided to step out of the car and stretch and have a cup of tea. He thought he deserved a cup now, at least.

He locked the jeep and walked and told the auto-wallah to move and not obstruct the gate. He ordered tea and a cigarette, asked for a Gold Flake and lit it, a few puffs and he realized that this was stupid of him, to smoke near the hospital. Before throwing it, he took one long puff and held the smoke in while his lungs burned. He threw and squashed the cigarette under his brown shiny shoes, he wondered how come his shoes were still so clean. He had taken a few sips when he got a call on his phone, he took the call and got to know that the suspect has left the hospital and entered the metro station. He was also asked if he saw him, he took a gulp and said ‘I think I did’, he had to lie.

He threw a fifty rupee note at the chai-wallah and ran towards the metro station. At entering the stations, he saw a long queue and started wondering that the suspect could be anywhere, he could have already boarded a train. He felt useless and irritated but tried to take control of the situation by taking deep breaths. He had heard somewhere that it helped in situations like these.

He came back to the jeep and took three long breaths before finally calling his senior on the phone and telling him that he lost him in the crowd. He turned the key and the engine came to life but he stepped out of the car and went to chai-wallah and asked him for the change before finally leaving to the police station.

Note: I might write a second part of this with a different perspective very soon. Let me know your views about this. Thanks!

I wanted to post here for a long time and for once if you have read some of my previous posts, you would want to shoot me right now. Why? Because I say the same darn thing all the time. I know that is old and I need a new statement to support my absence here *completely ignoring the fact that nobody really cares*

So, today I can talk about my day, because that usually gives me something to talk and write about and you for once get to know about a day in my life. No I am not telling you everything about my day but only a thing or two. I will choose the interesting part or will try and make it interesting. That works? I am talking to myself, yes!

I will talk about the metro rides to work. In the morning as I wait for the metro to arrive, I walk from one point to another and then I take a glance at my watch and I repeat the same thing. I observe people exiting other trains, getting down from stairs, some are in rush while some are literally pushing themselves to move. If you see things in a different manner, they start appearing either funny or you start seeing everyone as an individual( if you are watching people). Now you might be thinking, that’s nonsense. How can I see them as individuals, aren’t they individuals already? But you didn’t see them that way, I didn’t at least. They were just a bunch of people, a blob moving from point A to B or from A to C.

But as I was waiting for my metro to come, I saw each person and studied them. The expressions on their faces, their face reflecting lack of sleep, lack of will to go to work, some smiled and that too genuinely while some rushed because they were late and would probably be getting a lecture from their seniors. Oh well, there is so much variety.

Then my metro came and I got in after calculating what coach would have some free space so that I could take my book out which was The Book Thief and read it. I did get a place and I read my book. Good journey? Yes!

Tell me
What happens when
You stick a knife
Into a man’s stomach
And he spurts blood
From his mouth
And then as life leaves him
He grabs your collar
And looks you in the eyes
With a pleading look
And questions you
Without a sound.

Do you for once
feel sad?
Were you at unease
When his soul
Questioned you
And you just stared
Into those dark pits
Which by the way
Had no tears
But only questions
And then you waited
For the light to go away
So that you could
Make a final call
And spurt the words
Job done
Would you ever think about
Those eyes
When they were
In their final moments?

-Jafar Rehman

So, I have started to write whatever I get, be it dark poetry or anything else. Tell me if you liked it.